Wedding Bells: We've Been Through Hell
by molly22
Summary: jackiehyde summary inside Please review!
1. The Third and Final Wedding

Title: Wedding Bells: We've Been Through Hell  
  
Chapter: Prologue~The Third and Final Wedding  
  
Summary: Jackie and Hyde are getting married and reflecting on the events in their lives that led them to the big moment. It is in kind of a strange order. Like, for example, there are references in the prologue that don't make any sense until chapter 3 or whatever.  
  
Pairings: Jackie/Hyde, with a few Donna/Eric references  
  
Spoilers: In upcoming chapters, there will be spoilers.  
  
As he peered into the "dressing room," which was really a glorified women's restroom, he couldn't help but gape at the 24-year-old girl who's eyes were glued on her own reflection, trying to find any imperfection in her hair, makeup, or clothing. She looked...he could form no words to describe how she looked. Beautiful could not begin to cover it, but it was the only one he could come up with. It would have to do. And although she had always been beautiful, had always been noticed, and he had a pretty good feeling that she always would be, he was also sure about the fact that she would always be known for her especially stunning appearance on that particular day, in that particular dress.   
  
Maybe it wasn't just her attire that was making her seem like the most gorgeous woman he had ever laid his pale blue eyes on. Maybe it was the aura she was emanating, a glow about her, a happiness, it seemed, that made her smile both widely and sincerely, a feat for any model, but especially for one like her, who most well-known for toothpaste advertisements. Nevertheless, the dress definitely helped.   
  
Much to his surprise, his gaze was not immediately drawn to the plunging neckline that revealed just enough to be sexy, while still quite tasteful. Nor was he captivated by the tight-fitting bodice, or the skirt that was a tad too...poofy for his taste, although it suited her--and her princess complex--perfectly. It was the color of the gown--a blindingly pure white that exquisitely offset her tanned, unblemished skin and dark, silky locks that were loosely curled around her petite shoulders, that left him completely spellbound.  
  
He, on the other hand, wore a simple black and white tuxedo. A penguin suit, as he called it. Nothing too fancy, but it was still too fancy for him. He'd prefer a pair of jeans and one of his many gray or black tee-shirts any day.   
  
But she would not let him, so he worse the damn penguin suit.   
  
"I can't say I blame her for forcing you into the tux. If your style hasn't changed in the past year, which I'm sure it hasn't, she would've killed you if you dressed yourself for this thing," a famliar voice--that he had to admit he had missed--said from behind him, as if reading his mind.   
  
He turned around with a wry smile. "Glad to see you made it. Although, as the best man, you should really have been here sooner. I've gotta admit," he added, clearly joking, "that I am disappointed in you."   
  
Despite the fact that he knew his best friend, the one he hadn't seen for eleven months, was joking, the best man looked slightly bashful. "Sorry. Donna and me got in a fight right before we left, over where to send the twins for preschool."   
  
"Preschool? For Christ's sake, Forman, they were only born a year ago. They've got three more to go before you worry about that. Speaking of which, did you bring 'em? I wanna say hi to my godkids."   
  
Eric Forman grinned widely, revealing a chipped front tooth. It was clear to anyone with half a brain that he was thinking about his pride and joys, Michelle and Heidi, named after the female version of the names of his two best friends. Michelle had the middle name of Fez, after his other friend, this one of foreign--though he still wasn't sure specifically where--descent, while Heidi's was Midge, after Donna's mom. They'd already decided that their next child, if it was a girl, would be Kitty, and if it was a boy, Red. Eric had specifically asked for this, although he had made Donna swear that if they did name their kid Red, she would claim that it was her idea. "Yeah, the girls are sitting with my parents. But now's not the time to say hi, man. And Donna's trying to find the--ahem-- dressing room . Which I see is right over here. And its a bathroom. Anyway, I'm pretty sure there's some kind of rule about not seeing the bride before the ceremony."   
  
"Whatever, man. So how long are staying in town before you have to rush back to New York for some big business meeting, or whatever the hell it is you do."   
  
"Man, I don't even know what I do," Eric replied jokingly. "But I do know I get a week off, and so does Donna. But she gets time off a lot anyway. I mean, she can do her work at home most of the time. Journalists are like that, you know. So, how long do you get off?" He paused then chuckled. "I keep forgetting you own the record store now. You can take all the time off you want."   
  
"Well, maybe you keep forgetting because you're never around to be reminded."   
  
"Maybe so."   
  
Eric looked thoughtful for a moment. "Never thought I'd miss Point Place. Never. Then again, I never thought all of you guys would stay."   
  
"Well, neither did I. But sometimes that's just how things work out. I mean, I never expected to get married."   
  
"I never expected you to get married either. But you are. And its not even one of those 'let's show up at city hall today and get married real quick instead of having a real ceremony and reception' weddings. It's like an actual wedding. At a nice place. With, like, specified dressing rooms for the wedding party."   
  
"The bridal dressing room has water damage from when it rained two days ago," he explained to Eric.   
  
Eric blinked and smiled, then slapped his hand on his friend's shoulder. "Come on, man. Let's go have a pre-wedding beer real quick."   
  
"Nah, it's gonna be starting soon."   
  
"Fine," Eric said. "Then I'll have a pre-wedding beer, and you can watch me drink it."   
  
He rolled his eyes from behind tinted lenses of sunglasses (an accessory that he would have to remove within the next--he checked his watch--fifteen minutes.)   
  
"Fine. One beer, okay."   
  
"Okay," replied Eric, and the two twenty-five year olds headed towards a room down the hall with a crooked-hanging sign taped onto it that was labeled "Lounge." Upon entrance, the groom flopped down on an uncomfortable electric blue couch, while the best man bee-lined for the fridge. Half of Eric's upper body disappeared into the refridgerator for a moment, and a shuffling of items was heard, and then, one second later, he reemerged with a can of beer in his hand.   
  
"So." Eric took his spot next to the groom.   
  
"So," he said back, smiling faintly.   
  
"I guess, as the best man, I'm supposed to give you a pep talk."   
  
"No need, really."   
  
Eric said, "Oh, come on. It's tradition."  
  
  
  
"Fine. If you really have to."   
  
"Yay!" He then grew serious and looked at his soon-to-be-married pal. "I, Eric Forman, will forgive you for marrying the devil. Because I realize you love her. And at least you're not marrying my sister, unlike certain other friends. Okay, good luck!"   
  
He arched his eyebrow. "That's your pep talk?"   
  
"Yeah. Oh, and Dad said that, if you chicken out, or decide you don't really love her, just rub your nose and sneeze, and he'll yell 'Fire!' or pretend to have another heart attack or something."   
  
Laughing, he said, "That's nice of him, offering to help me leave my fiancee at the alter."   
  
"That's what I said."   
  
He checked his watch again, and saw that it was 12:25. The ceremony was at one, and he had already decided against showing up late. He'd rather not have his throat slit in his sleep tonight, the weapon being his wife's razor sharp fingernails. Yeah, that was not exactly how he wanted to spend his wedding night. He had other ideas of how to occupy their time. "Come on, man. We've got to hurry."   
  
"Alright, alright," Eric said, setting his three-fourths-full beer down gently on the table.   
  
"Let's go. But where's Fez?"  
  
"He's probably at the alter already. I gave him three candy bars on the condition he'd not get himself into trouble."   
  
"But it's funny when he gets himself into trouble," Eric whined.   
  
He smiled. "Yeah, but I don't think I could take the stress today." He then stood up, teetering slightly, and stretched out. "Time to get married."  
  
Eric said, half-serious, "Just remember what I said about my dad."  
  
"I'll keep that in mind," he replied as he removed his trademark sunglasses, but it was obvious he was kidding. He couldn't do that. He wouldn't do that. Because everything in his life had seemed like a risk. He never knew if he was doing the right thing, or saying the right thing. But this engagement, this wedding, it just felt right with him. Sure, he'd always lived within his own boundaries of what to do, and how to do it. Getting married wasn't within those boundaries. At least the old ones. But maybe these were new boundaries, new lines, for a man in love.   
  
"Come on," groaned Eric. "Let's get this thing over with."  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
"Are you ready, son?" whispered the pastor to the young man to the left of him. He'd seen his fair share of marriages, and nervous grooms, and he always made sure to ask if they were ready before signaling to Mrs. Baggs to begin playing the organ.  
  
  
  
"Yes," was the simple reply he received, the young man's voice strong, sure, and perhaps the least nervous the pastor had ever heard from a groom. But that was because he was not nervous. He was happy. Achingly happy. Annoyingly happy. Yet, it wasn't a jittery happy or a hyper happy, but a calm happy. The kind you get only when you feel a sense of completeness. The kind you get only when you're truly overjoyed. So much that you can't smile, laugh, weep, or sigh, but simply stand there, and let the warm feeling conquer your gut.  
  
The traditional music began playing, and the groom exhanged a quick look with his best friend and best man, Eric Forman, and then with his foreign friend, who was busy munching on a Hershey's bar, Fez. He turned back to look at the aisle, whick Red and Kitty Forman were walking down, each pushing a stroller carrying a murmuring baby girl in a pink dress. When they reached the front, Mrs. Forman let go of the strolled for a moment and kissed the groom on the cheek, whispering, "I'm so proud of you." Mr. Forman merely muttered, "Remember: rub your nose and sneeze." They then turned right, still pushing the strollers, and sat down on the empty front bench, the strollers a little in front of them.  
  
Next down the aisle was Donna Pinciotti-Forman, Eric's wife, her lovely red hair up in a bun, with wisps of it falling out towards the front. Her light pink dress pooled slightly around her angles as she walked, and she nearly tripped once, but she caught herself and was spared the embarrassment. She smiled warmly at her husband, then took her place on the left, leaving an empty space between herself and the pastor.  
  
And then the music changed slightly, and the classic "dun dun dun-dun" began playing, the signal for the bride to begin her walk down the aisle. He felt his heart begin to race at the thought of seeing her, marrying her. However collected he may have felt seconds earlier, now he felt really and truly anxious, and he couldn't even tell whether or not it was the good or bad kind of anxious.   
  
Then he saw her. She was a vision. And he wasn't the only one who thought so. He proudly grinned when he even heard a few gasps.  
  
The people on either side of the aisle stood now, but he barely noticed them. As cliche as it may sound, he only had eyes for her. She looked even better than she had when he'd spied on her while she was in her "dressing room," something he had thought impossible. But then again, everything about their relationship defied possibility.  
  
On her arm was Michael Kelso, looking as handsome as ever. He wore a white suit and a hot pink bow tie, which, on anyone else would have looked ridiculous, but on him...well, it looked ridiculous, but he was still unbelievably handsome in it. At least he spared us the unicorns, thought the groom sarcastically, slightly bitter for a moment. But this was his day, not Kelso's, and he refused to let himself experience any jealousy. Because he was the one marrying her, wasn't he? Not Michael Kelso or anyone else, for that matter.  
  
When she'd first suggested for Kelso to be the one to walk her down the aisle, he had, of course, forbid it. Kelso was his best friend, of course, but he still didn't trust him anywhere near his girlfriend. They just had too much history for him to be comfortable when they were together.  
  
But she had explained that it was important to her. "Michael has been a big part of my life, and since my own dad can't walk me down the aisle, I want him to. I know you're unhappy about it, but you had better get over it. This is something I want. For me. Because when you think about it, he really is giving me away. Our marriage is, like, a sign that me and Michael are over for good. He's giving me away. To you. You should be a happy about it, actually." He had gotten pissed at her after that, both because he didn't want Kelso to give her away, and because he had thought it was clear that Kelso and her were over for good when they got engaged, possibly even before then. But he forgave her the next day because, much as he tried, he couldn't stay mad at her.  
  
When the pair reached the wedding party, Kelso turned to his former girlfriend for a second and gave her an innocent peck on the cheek. "Thank you," she mouthed at him, and he smiled, then turned to the groom. "If you hurt her," he began, but was instantly cut off by the words, "I won't."  
  
She stood next to Donna, and the engaged couple faced one another, him with a straight face, her smiling like a fool. The pastor spoke. "Dearly beloved, the matter that brings us here today is marriage and love between this man and this woman. But what is love, true love? It is something unfathomable, undefinable. Something comfortable. An unconditional feeling. These are some of the many ways to describe love. Let us now give the bride and groom give us their opinion on their love for eachother. Jackie?"  
  
Jackie smiled at the pastor and then turned to her soon-to-be husband. Her voice wavered slightly as she said, "Steven Hyde, I love you with all of my heart. And although it's been a rocky road getting here, I think I always knew we would get here. Well, not always, of course. I thought I was going to marry Michael for a long time, and I almost did, but..." She saw Hyde's eyebrow raise. "Well, anyway, it doesn't matter. What matters is that I don't have such a great way with words, but I can say 'I love you.' And I know I can be petty and vain and self-centered, and I would say that I would change for you, but we both know I wouldn't. So I'll just say that I am who I am, but who I am is a girl who loves you and will try as hard as she can to make you happy." She then nodded to the pastor, signifying she was finished.  
  
"Steven, would you like to say something?"  
  
"Yeah. Jackie, we've...well, we've been through hell--" The pastor coughed pointedly. "We've been through...a lot. More than I would've liked to have gone through. I've dumped you, cheated on you, loved you, and hated you. I've been unreliable and undeserving. I've put you through hel--through some deep...crap. And you should know I'm never gonna be the perfect guy, the one who says and does everything right. But I'm just glad you'll have me. This has been a weird trip."  
  
The pastor grinned widely. "Well, wasn't that nice? Now, before God and all of you, these two will be joined by the bonds of holy matrimony." He put his right hand on Hyde's shoulder and his left on Jackie's. "If there is anyone here who believes that these young people should not be married, speak now or forever hold your peace."  
  
Hyde held his breath, waiting, waiting. But no. No one said anything. No one spoke up. No one objected. "Thank god," he whispered.  
  
"Okay, then we'll move on. Jackie Burkhardt, do you take--"  
  
"Wait!" a familiarly accented voice cried. "I must object."  
  
Hyde, Jackie, and the pastor whipped around to face Fez. "You object? On what grounds?" asked the pastor.  
  
"Just kidding," Fez responded, laughing. "I do not really object."  
  
If looks could kill, Fez would have been lying dead on the ground bleeding from every--and that means every--hole in his body. "What?" he asked, clueless that he had done something that, had it been any other wedding, Hyde would have found funny, but at this wedding, was an act deserving of severe punishment. But, since he had no time to make Fez pay, Hyde simply grabbed the chocolate bar out of his hand and threw it into Mrs. Forman's lap.  
  
"Well," chucked the pastor nervously. "Let's get back to it. Um." He looked down at his Bible. "Oh, yes, Jackie Burkhardt, do you take Steven Hyde as your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, to love and to cherish, in sickness and in health, for as long as you both shall live?"  
  
"I do," Jackie replied, her excitement bubbling up inside of her.  
  
"And do you, Steven Hyde, take Jackie Burkhardt as your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold, to love and to cherish, in sickness and in health, for as long as you both shall live?"  
  
"I..." It is said that in the moments before you die, your life flashes before your eyes. Well, apparently the same was true with getting married, because, in the seconds before Hyde was supposed to say "I do," he couldn't help but take a trip through time, and relive the moments that had led himself, Steven Hyde, to be standing at the alter, marrying the princess of Point Place, Jackie Burkhardt. 


	2. Younger Than I Ever Was

At the tender young age of thirteen, Michael Kelso had long since grown accustomed to the feeling of excitement he got--in his gut and somewhere a little lower--whenever a pretty girl was near. But he'd never actually had one sit on his lap before. He'd never actually had one put her arm around him, or twirl his hair between his fingers. This was a different kind of excitement he was feeling, similar, but more intense.  
  
"So, to make a long story short," Jackie Burkhardt was saying, although her story seemed to Kelso to be anything but short, "Daddy got Lisa's daddy fired. That'll teach her to make fun of my hair."  
  
"Yeah," Kelso replied noncommitally.  
  
Jackie didn't notice. "You like my hair, don't you, Michael?" She leaned into the boy, forcing him to face the back of her head. Her hair smelled like vanilla.  
  
"Uh-huh," was all he said.  
  
"Oh, that's so sweet!" She put her hand on the back of his head. "I like your hair, too. You know, Michael, you're almost as pretty as me."  
  
That caught Kelso's attention, but he said nothing. Since he had stopped needing the dreaded headgear, he had noticed that he was exceptionally good looking. At first, he thought it was just compared to his friends that he was such a stud, but then he realized that no, he was a stud compared to everyone. And although Jackie was pretty, her knees were a little knobby, her eyelashes weren't very long, and her teeth, while straight, were nowhere near as straight as his own.  
  
"Michael, I just want to say that I think we make a really great couple."  
  
Couple? Kelso began panicking. Yeah, he liked having the petite brunette sit on his lap, making him feel all...squidgy inside, with her legs swinging back and forth casually. He thought that was maybe the best thing that had ever happened to him concerning a member of the opposite sex. But he didn't want to get tied down just as he was discovering this whole new side to himself, or whatever you want to call it. He wanted to see some action, not be forced to make doe eyes at the same girl every day.  
  
Luckily, Jackie hadn't been expecting an answer, because she began chattering incessantly once more. He wasn't paying attention to what she was saying. He rarely did. It wasn't that he was too captivated by his own thoughts. He really did have too many thoughts, at least any ones that were worth dwelling on. Nothing very deep. Mainly just "Hey, that girl is hot," and "Man, I'm starving." At that moment it was "I like Jackie, but I don't want to date her. How do I tell her that? She'll be crushed that such a good-looking guy like me would shoot her down."  
  
But he was shook from his worry when the door of Forman's basement flew open, causing Jackie to hop guiltily off of Kelso's lap. He suddenly missed her presence.  
  
"Oh," Jackie said with obvious distaste as she surveyed the young man who had entered the basement. "It's you."  
  
"Oh," Steven Hyde replied, speaking to Kelso rather than to Jackie. "It's her. Why is she here?"  
  
"We're, uh--"  
  
"I'll have you know that we are dating." Hyde snorted, causing her to ask, "Oh, still too immature to understand the complex relationship that can happen between a girl and a boy."  
  
"I'm mature enough to have gotten past second base," he said, face unsmiling, but a hint of amusement was clearly heard in his voice.  
  
But Jackie didn't understand. "Second...base?"  
  
"Never mind," Hyde said, disgusted by her presence. "Now, why don't you go home and spend some of Daddy's money?"  
  
"I don't have to. I'm here with Michael."  
  
"Excuse me," he said. "Let me rephrase that: GO HOME!"  
  
The young brunette girl whirled around to face Kelso. "Come on, Michael. Let's go to a place where our love is understood."  
  
"Um, actually," Kelso began nervously. He was afraid of that girl. She may have been tiny, but she clearly packed a punch. She wasn't afraid to let loose with those sharp fingernails and heavy makeup bag. "I was gonna stay here. With   
  
Hyde. To...do guy stuff. You know, without girls." He flashed a pearly white smile.  
  
She frowned at him. "But, he insulted me. And you still want to hang out him? MICHAEL!"  
  
"I didn't actually insult you directly," Hyde put in helpfully.  
  
"Yeah," Kelso said. "He didn't actually--"  
  
"I HEARD HIM."  
  
"Well, okay bye," Hyde said, quickly taking the girl by her slim shoulders and shoving her out the still-open door. Kelso could hear her stomp off.  
  
He couldn't help but feel guilty. Clearly the girl was ga-ga for him. And who could blame her? She may have told dull stories, and she may have been slightly annoying, but, hell, so was Forman. And he still hung out with him....Of course, that might've had something to do with the free food and totally private basement space.  
  
"Jackie Burkhardt?" Hyde yelled into his face. "Jackie Burkhardt? Jackie Burkhardt! Of all the people to blow off hormonal steam on, you choose Jackie Burkhardt?"  
  
"Um, yeah," replied Kelso, not seeing what the big deal is.  
  
"For Christ's sake, she's the devil."  
  
"But she's pretty and she buys me things. Would the devil do that?"  
  
Hyde blinked at his naive friend. "Of course the devil would do that. Do you think the devil's going to be ugly and poor? That that's how he's gonna get idiots like you to sign your soul over to him or whatever the hell the devil wants?" A pause. "Wait, what kind of stuff?"  
  
"Records and magazines. And hair products."  
  
"Do you think she'd maybe buy you some...other stuff?"  
  
Kelso frowned, but, while frowning can make some people look like shit, he was still unbelievably good-looking for a thirteen-year-old boy. "What kind of other stuff? Like GI Joes?"  
  
"NO!" He rolled his eyes. "I heard about some...stuff. It's apparently pretty good."  
  
"Um...GI Joes are good."  
  
"Not GI Joes, man." He lowered his voice to a whisper. "Pot."  
  
"Pots?"  
  
Growing annoyed, Hyde slapped his friend in the back of the head. "Jesus, man, Kelso, I'm talking about drugs."  
  
"Oh," Kelso replied, stretching the word out, clearly understanding. "Pot." He thought about it for a moment, and his face contorted oddly so he looked like he was constipated. "Yeah, I don't think Jackie would buy that."  
  
"Damn it!"  
  
"Where are gonna get pot anyway?"  
  
Hyde shrugged and said, vaguely, "I know a guy who knows a guy."  
  
"Oh?"  
  
"His name's Leo. He'll sell me it. But I don't have enough cash."  
  
Kelso laughed. "You don't have any cash, man. You're totally broke."  
  
"Shut up," Hyde growled.  
  
"Well, you are. You're totally broke."  
  
"And you're totally about to get your ass kicked!" Hyde threatened, causing Kelso to jump behind the couch and duck his head under his hands. But Hyde didn't kick his ass just then. Instead, he was thinking about how he could get his hands on--  
  
"Eric!" Mrs. Forman called down the stairs, even though her son was at the Pinciotti's, probably trying to woo the girl who lived there, Donna. "Dinner." When her son didn't reply, she walked down, her shoes clicking against the steps. "Oh, Michael, Steven, what are you two doing here? Would you like to stay for supper? Is Eric bothering Donna again? Run and go get him, will you?"  
  
iOh well,/i Hyde thought. iI'll figure out a way to get the pot later./i Plus, he had bigger problems. Like, why were all of his friends suddenly pairing up? And how the hell was he going to break up Michael Kelso, the idiot, and Jackie Burkhardt, the devil?   
  
He shook his head from side to side. Why did he have to do everything?  
  
" 


	3. Imaginary Innocence

A/N: Okay, this chapter is based on the episode "Bring It On Home," during season 5. Unfortunately, I can't find the script for the episode, so the dialogue will be off in parts. It'll be close, though. I hope.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Swallowed up in the sound of my screaming   
  
Cannot cease for the fear of silent nights   
  
Oh how I long for the deep sleep dreaming   
  
The goddess of imaginary light   
  
–Evanescence, "Imaginary"   
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
"You are the dancing queen," crooned Abba through the record player. Plopping down on her living room couch, Jackie joined in, softly singing, "Young and sweet, only seventeen." The girl pulled the frayed pink afghan tighter around her slim body and propped her legs up on the sleek white coffee table in front of her. She sighed, and the hollowness of her voice echoed through the empty room.   
  
It had been days since she'd seen anybody from the "basement gang," as she called it. (She never actually said it aloud, because Donna and Eric would laugh at her, and Steven would make some remark about it being dumb or childish.) The phone was becoming her enemy as well. It had emitted that screeching "bring bring" several times, and she had finally picked it up, annoyed. It had been Donna, asking, "Where have you been? Hyde's worried, you know. He's called like five times."   
  
"Oh," Jackie had replied, secretly sort of pleased that Steven cared enough and would take the time to call her. But she simply made up an excuse about having the flu and looking like crap. "No one can come visit me, okay? I would die if anyone saw me like this."   
  
She could only hope Donna would pass this order on to Steven.   
  
It wasn't that she didn't want to see her boyfriend. She did. And half of what she told Donna was true--she did look shitty. She hadn't had the energy to put on makeup to cover up the dark circles under her eyes. Lately, she wasn't getting too much sleep. It was hard for her, when the house was completely empty. Call it "abandonment issues."   
  
Mainly, though, she was just embarrassed. Her mother had left her, forgotten her. Her father was in prison. Her family...Well, Steven could probably understand. He would understand. He'd been through this too.   
  
But she still couldn't face him.   
  
Her stomach growled loudly. All she'd eaten for the past forty-eight hours was dry cereal, since she didn't know how to cook anything and the milk had spoiled. It wasn't as if she was a big eater before (she did, after all, have to keep her figure) but you could get really sick of eating the same thing for every meal, especially when it wasn't very appetizing in the first place. "Shut up," she muttered to her stomach. "Shut up."   
  
"Feel the beat from the tambourine, oh yeah," Abba was singing. Jackie leaned over and turned the volume up. "You can dance. You can jive. Having the time of your life."   
  
She curled up on the couch with the ratty old afghan and squeezed her eyes shut. She just wanted to sleep...   
  
...But she knew she couldn't.   
  
After laying on the couch for perhaps five minutes, she jumped up suddenly and screamed, "DAMN IT!" She kicked the table, causing the record player to fall off of it and crash to the ground, silencing the music. "DAMN IT!" Her vision went blurry, and her hand fluttered up to her cheek, wet with tears. "Damn it, damn it, damn it." Jackie broke down sobbing.   
  
She was SICK of this. The tears and the tiredness. The hunger. All of it.   
  
She just knew it would all be fixed if she got a decent night of sleep.   
  
The only problem was that she didn't know where to go. Donna's place would work, but what if--ew--Eric was there as well? And, like, naked or something? She could go to a hotel, she supposed, but that was expensive, and it didn't really solve her problem. She wanted to be near people. If she went to Fez or Michael, they'd just try to get in her pants. She just wanted a place where she felt safe.   
  
There was always Steven.   
  
But she didn't want to bother him at--she glanced at the clock on the wall--two in the morning. He was a pretty heavy sleeper, and he'd probably get pissed off. Or the door to the Forman's basement would be locked and she'd have gotten up for no reason. Plus, she was pretty sure it was raining out. Yeah, she could see it now: Showing up at the basement door, mascara running, freezing cold, then finding out that the thing was locked. Unfortunately, she'd be so exhausted or whatever and she'd collapse from pnuemonia. Then, Steven would find her in the morning, and she'd look all freaky or be dead or something.   
  
No. She definitely couldn't go there.   
  
But she certainly couldn't endure another night where she was. She couldn't take another trip past her parents' bedroom on the way to the bathroom. Jackie couldn't bear to look into the empty fridge again. She couldn't suffer through one more day of unoccupied rooms and creaky doors, all seeming to be laughing at her. Or haunting her. She didn't know which.   
  
Would it hurt her as much as she imagined to just put herself out there, to tell Steven that she needed his help? Would the results be so disastrous?   
  
Unlikely.   
  
He'd been in trouble before, too. He'd been abandoned, too. He could...he would understand. He wouldn't laugh. He wouldn't turn her away. True, there was no guarantee he'd actually wake up.   
  
But she had to try.   
  
She had to get away.   
  
Despite everything she'd been through, every strange insecurity she'd felt in the past few days, some habits, shallow as they were, were hard to break. These habits included painting her nails and putting on as much makeup as possible before visiting her boyfriend. And though it took almost every ounce of her energy, Jackie did manage to carry a theme of the color red throughout her eyeshadow, lipstick, and wardrobe decisions of a pair of jeans and a cute off-the-shoulder top. She didn't look her best, but she sure looked better than she had an hour earlier.   
  
Quickly grabbing her pair of flannel pajamas and stuffing them in a bag, she headed back downstairs. As she walked towards the front door, she grabbed the first coat she could find, but since an umbrella was nowhere in sight, she figured she would have to do without.   
  
Even if it meant her hair would go flat.   
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~   
  
Steven Hyde, more often referred to by his last name than his first, was not happy. Sleep was one of the most important things in his life, and he really hated being forced out of such a serene state. In fact, it pissed him off.   
  
And unless whoever was knocking on the door--in a way that was quiet enough to ensure the sound sleep of the Formans but loud enough to cause Hyde to peel his eyes open in aggravation and curse the air above his head–brought with them a present, preferably in the form of a certain plant, he was going to give them hell. iYes, lots and lots of hell,/i he thought, his mind groggy, as he noticed that it was a little after three. In the morning.   
  
Hyde rolled out bed and hit the floor with a thud. "Ow," he muttered, straightening his pajama pants and grabbing a shirt to pull on over his bare chest. "This better be good..." he called to the basement door as he approached it. "Or else." The knob was slightly cold when he touched it, and the chill caused the hair on his arm to stand up, but he didn't hesitate as he swung it open–   
  
–And came face to face with a beautiful brunette wearing a bright red shirt and matching lipstick. And hanging on her elbow was a large bag with a pattern of pink unicorns.   
  
"JACKIE?" he said, his voice loud with surprise and disbelief.   
  
"Hey," she replied, voice quivering slightly. "Can I come in?"   
  
He stepped aside, letting her come through the doorway, and tried not to sound too curious when he asked, "Why are you here? Donna said you had the flu."   
  
"Oh," she giggled, clearly trying to sound as if something wasn't weighing heavy on her heart. "I was just feeling bad. Anyway. I was just wondering if maybe I could stay here for the night?" She looked at him pleadingly through her eyelashes.   
  
He frowned back at her. "But I thought..." he trailed off. She knew what he was trying to say. He thought she had said she wasn't ready to do "it" yet. She probably wouldn't be ready for awhile. And that he'd have to be okay with that.   
  
Jackie turned noticeably red. "Not to...you know. I mean..." Her voice broke. "I just need somewhere to sleep." At his blank look she said, words flying out of her mouth almost too fast to understand, "But you know what? I'll just go somewhere else. Or I'll go home. Why did I come here anyway? I'm just being a baby. I can go home. It's fine. I--"   
  
"Just shut up for a second," Hyde interrupted. "You need somewhere to stay because...?"   
  
Now sounding slightly offended she said, "I just get spooked out in my house...all alone. With my dad, you know, in prison, and my mom off at a bar somewhere." As an afterthought, she exclaimed, "And I'm sick of cereal!"   
  
"Okay," he agreed. "You can stay."   
  
"Do you want me to go? I'll go."   
  
"You can stay."   
  
"Are you sure?"   
  
"Jackie." He spoke slowly. "You can stay."   
  
She smiled at him, and he smiled back. "I'll sleep on the couch, too. I mean, would that be a good idea?"   
  
"No." He cocked his eyebrow at her. "You can share my bed. It's not the most comfortable, but it's more comfortable than that damn couch. But you can't let anybody catch you down here. Especially Mrs. F. We'd both be in for a lecture that I really don't want to sit through."   
  
Her eyes filled with tears and she rushed at him, encircling her arms around his waist. "Oh, Steven. Thank you."   
  
Instead of pushing her away, Hyde stroked her hair and whispered reassuring words into her ear as she sobbed into his shoulder. It was an unusual display of affection, one he normally wouldn't participate in, but with Jackie it didn't feel so bad. It almost felt good. She was so warm, and she smelled so...   
  
He shook himself out of his trance. "Come on. Let's go to bed." She nodded and followed him to his room where she collapsed on the bed, falling asleep instantly. She didn't even get the chance to change into her pajamas.   
  
Hyde crawled into the bed next to her, twisting his body in uncomfortable positions, trying not to fall off. She was a bit of a bed hog. But he managed to finally get settled in a way that she wasn't elbowing him in any particularly...sensitive places, and he wasn't falling off. But just to keep his balance, he curled his arm around her waist tightly and hoped he wouldn't let go in his sleep.   
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~   
  
Morning came too soon for the young couple. It rushed through the room with the strength and speed of something that would always come, something consistent, something impossible to stop.   
  
They did not awake at first. Hyde shielded his eyes from the glare of sunlight, and Jackie pressed herself closer to him. But soon murmured voices outside the door caused Hyde to sit up and mutter, "Shit."   
  
"You awake in there?" Michael Kelso was wondering.   
  
"Yeah," replied Hyde, voice scratchy. "I'll be out in a minute." He then gently shook Jackie's shoulder, whispering "Get up. Get up."   
  
"Mmmmph." She cracked one eye open. "What?"   
  
He forced himself not to smile. "It's morning."   
  
"Oh." She tried not to sound too disappointed.   
  
"You stay in here for five minutes. Unless you want them to know you're staying here." She shook her head no. "I'll get them to go upstairs or something, and then you can go home."   
  
"Okay."   
  
He got up and walked out the door. She heard muffled words, something about breakfast and refrigerator. A second later, there was the sound of at least three people going up the stairs.   
  
Jackie stretched her arms out, and suddenly she felt her neck crack. "Ow." It definitely hadn't been the most comfortable sleep she'd ever had. The bed was small, too small for just one person, and much too small for two. Steven stole the covers from her several times in the course of the night, and the pillows were unbelievably lumpy.   
  
And yet she had never felt more rested in her life.   
  
As she walked out the door, she caught her reflection in a mirror. Her hair was a little tousseled and messed up, her eye makeup was smudged, and under her eyes there was still dark circles, although slightly less dark then they were the day before. Steven had seen her like this, looking disheveled and embarrassingly messy.   
  
She couldn't seem to care.   
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
If her life was a movie, this would be the part where she sat by the phone, looking stunning yet casual, as she flipped through the channels on the television. Her script would tell her to look bored, but also deeply sad. She would sigh, and there would be a montage of her rolling over and over and flipping through channels and looking at the phone–all of this to some great song that everyone knows. She would sigh and turn off the TV. Then, the music would quiet, and, on cue, the phone would ring. It would be Steven, telling her to be "at his place" (he would, of course, have his own apartment in her movie) at midnight.  
  
But her life was not a movie. Sure she was watching TV, but she was semi-interested in the episode of Charlie's Angels that was airing. And although she was slightly bored, she wasn't exactly "deeply sad." She didn't keep staring at the phone. There was no worldwide hit of a song playing in the background. Just Farrah Fawcett's voice. And she knew very well Steven didn't have his own apartment.  
  
Guess what? He also didn't call.  
  
The was a great debate going on within Jackie. "Go there," one side of her urged. "He let you stay yesterday, so why not today? Plus you left your bag there. You could say you're there to get it."  
  
"At almost one in the morning? You'll look like a child. Can't be alone in your own house. Boo hoo!" cried the other side.  
  
"Weren't you happy in his arms? Do you really think you're gonna find that here, in this ghost town of a house?"  
  
"The door was locked yesterday, remember? It'll probably be locked again. You were lucky he woke up then, but there's no guarantee he'll wake up now!"  
  
"He probably left the door unlocked for you. Just in case."  
  
The other side cackled. "Why would he do that? He doesn't care enough about you to be inconvenienced."  
  
"He does too!"  
  
"Does not, and you know it."  
  
"Then why'd he let you stay, huh? If he didn't care?"  
  
"Because he thought he was going to get some."  
  
On and on it went, her heart battling her mind. She was split down the center, insecure, afraid, and simply wanting to be at the Formans', to be with Steven, to feel safe.  
  
Of course! Jackie should just do what she wanted to. Even if it meant getting turned away or forgotten or laughed at. Even if the door was locked. Even if it felt like she was risking everything. Because in truth, she had nothing left to lose.  
  
The girl-woman stood and strode purposefully to the door. It didn't take long to get to the Formans' house, and she crept silently over to where the basement door was.  
  
Arm outstretched, she put her hand on the metal knob. Carefully, she turned it to the right and pushed it, hesitating slightly...  
  
...And it swung open easily.  
  
Which could mean only one thing: he'd left it unlocked.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
They didn't know how long it went on. A few weeks, probably. Long enough.  
  
Every night at one a.m., Jackie would sneak through the basement door and into Hyde's room. Sometimes, he was still awake, but usually he was asleep and snoring lightly. She'd weasel her way under his arm and under the covers, and usually she'd manage to find a fairly comfortable position.  
  
Every morning, once she'd grown accustomed to either getting up early enough to get out before anyone noticed she was theret or to sneaking out, with his help in creating a diversion, he would say, "Be careful tonight." He didn't want to get caught. She thought it was because he secretly didn't want to disappoint Mr. and Mrs. Forman again. She was happy to respect his wishes, especially considering that the first real disappointment he had brought upon the family was actually her fault.  
  
But they knew deep down that they would get caught sooned or later. They just never imagined it would be like this.  
  
"I told you to be careful," Hyde growled at her.  
  
"What kind of an idiot leaves legos in front of the door?"  
  
Eric, standing there in all his naked-under-a-sheet glory, burst out some Star Wars reference that Jackie didn't understand.  
  
Mrs. Forman then began to lecture them. "The Christmas decorations are down there. Baby Jesus was watching."  
  
"We didn't do anything. Jackie's just staying here because her dad's in prison and her mom's still gone," Hyde tried to explain.  
  
"She is?"  
  
"No," said Jackie, rushed. "I'm just here because...I am such a tramp."  
  
They didn't know how long it went on. How long they had lain together, slept together, without ever actually having sex. Doing It. They didn't know how long they had shared a bed, limbs entwined, without taking it farther.  
  
They knew that now it would have to stop.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Donna let Jackie stay with her, after first being told she was too unpopular, and then having a heart to heart with Hyde, who explained that Jackie had just been embarrassed. And Jackie was happy to stay with her best friend, even if Donna wasn't quite so overjoyed.  
  
But she would miss the security of having Steven's arm wrapped around her as she slept, and the feel of his breath on the back of her neck, and even the sound of his snoring.   
  
She would never thank him for what he gave her, she already knew that. But she hoped that he would know the serenity he granted her, the solace she found in his embrace. The escape he gave her from the pain. Everything he'd unknowingly made her feel.  
  
She hoped he would realize that his touch on her arm was like a drug, relieving all her pressures.  
  
He did, after all, know quite a lot about that subject. 


End file.
